


what big brothers are for

by ballerinaroy



Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Coming of Age, Gen, Post-War, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: It’s anticlimactic really. Ginny went to sleep a sixteen-year-old who’s been through hell and woke up of age. It’s not special, not momentous, not after what they’ve been through.
Relationships: (background) Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, George Weasley & Ginny Weasley, Pre-Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263350
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	what big brothers are for

She’d been using magic all summer and no one’s batted an eye. Apparated without a license too. Fred and George taught her, when they were trapped in Auntie Murial’s house with nothing to do. Ginny could acutely remember how terrified she’d been that she was going to break something, and them teasing her about being the reason they get kicked out of the large but overdecorated home.

So it barely registered until the night before when she’s drifting off to sleep. Seventeen, finally of age. She’d already learned not to expect anything. Harry’s birthday had come and gone with a cake, lackluster joy and him glaring at anyone who dared try and wish him a happy one.

Wizards got watches and witches got something traditionally practical like a new cauldron or cloak. Something to bring to their new home. When she was younger, she planned to demand something better, a broom or a watch just to mess with the patriarchy. But now that she was here, Ginny found she didn't want anything. Well, not nothing. But no amount of wishing will bring him back to life. No amount of demanding will change anything of the scars on her or Bill or Ron.

When she opened her eyes on the August morning the air was still chilled from the night before and she was alone. Lately, Hermione hasn’t even pretended to wait until Ginny went to sleep before she snuck upstairs. Hermione’s things might have been hung in the wardrobe, but a changing room is the extent to their overlap in their usage of Ginny’s bedroom.

Gently she padded downstairs, unsurprised to find Percy in the kitchen. Even though he’d moved back into his flat, he only ever left the Burrow for work and rest. The rest of the time Ginny found him running around the home, trying to fix everything he could. She wanted to tell him to stop, to take a rest and recover but can’t find the words to convince him to pause his penance.

“Morning,” he said cheerily as she entered.

He was at the stove, pulling off the kettle and frying some eggs.

“Morning,” she answered, bracing herself for the over the top cheeriness as he acknowledged the day of her birth, but it never came.

He’d already turned back to the stove. “Tea?” he offered, summoning a mug from the table to fill up. He turned again to offer it to her and at the look on her face he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she answered, taking the mug from his hand after a breath. “Thanks.”

He smiled, turning back to his work as she could hear someone else coming down the stairs.

“Good morning,” their father said warmly to them both, squeezing Ginny’s shoulder on his way to the window where the delivery owl was waiting.

“Oh, Percy,” her mother said, entering behind her father. “You don’t have to do all this.”

“It’s no trouble mother,” Percy answered, bending down so she can kiss his cheek. “Eggs?”

Her entire life, Ginny had watched Percy squirm and look uncomfortable whenever anyone tried showing physical affection. She can’t tell whether he’d secretly missed his mother’s attention or whether obliging her was apart of his penance too.

“Ah, they’ve managed to track down Madame Malkin, she’s planning to reopen for the new school year,” her father announced happily, unrolling the paper as the delivery bird took flight from the windowsill.

The paper has just started coming every day again, though much shorter than she can remember.

“Oh, good,” her mother answered happily, slicing the bread Ginny had helped her bake the day before and buttering it. “I was wondering where all the kids were going to get their robes.”

Just then the door opened and, looking as if they’ve just woken up, Harry, Ron and Hermione filed in.

“Speaking of which,” her mother went on smoothly, glaring over at the three of them. “Are you certain that not getting your N.E.W.T.s is the best idea?”

Ron looked bewildered and glanced at Harry. “Blimey, I haven’t even had tea and I’m already being attacked.”

“I’m just saying, that being an Auror is all well and good, but perhaps you’d do better taking a year off,” she continued. “Finish your education.”

Ron looked over at Ginny and rolled his eyes at her. Ever since they’d announced that he and Harry weren’t going back to school, their mother had taken any opportunity to try and convince them otherwise. Harry shook his head, taking the chair next to Ginny’s.

“Madam Maklin’s is opening back up,” their father supplied, passing the front page over to Hermione and Harry who’d taken seats next to one another.

“Any word on what they’re going to do about Florish and Blotts?” Harry asked, scanning the article. “Students won’t be able to buy their books.”

“We’ve got a meeting with the publishing companies this week,” Percy answered. “So far no one’s been interested in opening a shop up. If we can’t get anyone then we’re going to ask them to ship all the books to the school and Hogwarts will bill the parents the same way we’re doing potion’s ingredients until we can find a proper distributor.”

“McGonagall mentioned that they were considering relaxing the dress code,” Hermione said, sipping the cup of tea that Ron had poured for her. “To muggle clothes.”

“The purebloods wouldn’t’ve been happy about that,” Harry said darkly and then seem to remember who he was with and blushed.

“I don’t know, I think I look pretty fetching in jeans,” Ron quipped, handing Harry his mug and dropping into the chair on Hermione’s other side.

“I’ll say,” Hermione whispered in a voice so low that only the three of them seated could hear.

Harry made a retching face aimed at Ginny to laugh and when she didn’t he looked concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she managed, feeling everyone’s heads turn to look at her instantly. She swallowed past something hard and even though she never did, she willed herself not to cry. “Fine, I just, just need to use the loo.”

Before anyone could stop her, Ginny stood and rushed back up the stairs, simultaneously grateful and cross that no one followed her. For all she didn’t want anyone to make a big deal it had never occurred to her that no one would remember her birthday at all. It felt so surreal that she wasn’t sure how to act.

Before, she would have thrown a fit, glared at everyone and stormed out of the room for someone to chase after her. Before she would have made snide comments all day and made them all feel bad. Before, she would have been upset for weeks after.

But it wasn't before. People were dead, her brother was dead, and what did it really matter that she’s of age anyway?

Splashing water on her face only took away the burning in her cheeks, leaving the lump in her throat and the chilling sensation of abandonment. Surely, they wouldn’t forget all day. At some point, her mother would look at the date and be embarrassed and chastise them all for forgetting before apologizing herself.

The thought cheered her up marginally, thinking of how flustered they’d all get. It was a simple mistake and with everything going on, Ginny didn’t particularly want to make anyone feel worse.

Ginny didn’t think she’d been gone long, but by the time she made it back downstairs, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all huddled together by the window, sitting much closer than they needed and talking to one another in voices that didn’t carry. They didn’t even notice her passing through to the kitchen where only her mother remained.

“Oh, there you are,” her mother said cheerfully. “Is everything alright?”

Ginny opened her mouth to gently inform her mother of what day it was, to save her from any future embarrassment, but as she did Ginny noticed the bags under her mother’s eyes and was reminded how worn down she was.

“Fine,” Ginny whispered and, distracted, her mother nodded towards a setting on the table.

“We saved a plate for you,” she said, smiling. “I was just going to take this one up to George.”

Ginny nodded. “Thanks, mum.”

“Oh, you’re welcome dear,” she said, looking pleased. “I think I’m going to have a bit of a lie-in, so I’ll be upstairs if you need anything. I don’t know how your father does it, going off to work every day.”

Ginny took her time picking at the food that she really didn’t have an appetite for. Carefully, she scarped her plate and added it to the pile that was magically being scrubbed by a cloth.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione never excluded her, but she never felt particularly welcome in their company either. As she passed back through the sitting room, Ron was taking his customary morning nap, taking up the entire couch with his head in Hermione’s lap while she and Harry spoke in even softer voices. This time they waved as she passed through, but not in a way that she felt invited. Instead, she walked back up the stairs and prepared, as she had almost every day that summer, to spend the morning alone.

Lunch was never a very organized meal and with no sign of her mother, Ginny took it upon herself to prepare a tray for George. She carried it up the stairs carefully, knocking on his door and entering even though he didn’t call out to her.

The breakfast tray sat on his bedside table, untouched and Ginny slid it aside for the sandwich she had prepared for him. George lay facing her, staring at the empty bed. Carefully, she sat down on it and it was only then that he acknowledged her presence.

“Hey,” he croaked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Hey,” she answered, thankful for the darkroom to hide the wetness of her eyes. “Mum didn’t make you eat breakfast?”

George shook his head against his pillow.

“You’re really missing out, Percy’s turning into quite the chef,” Ginny told him, trying to keep her voice light.

“She looks tired,” George said in his slow voice.

“I don’t think she sleeps,” Ginny said. George looked upset by the news. “Which is what makes it all the more surprising that Hermione keeps getting away with sleeping up in Ron’s room.”

“With Harry in the room?” George asked a look of fake disgust on his face.

“Not like that,” Ginny laughed. “Have you been up there?”

Again, George shook his head without lifting it.

“They had to toss Ron’s bed after the ghoul, because of how foul it smelled.” She explained. “The three of them just pile on the floor next to one another. It doesn’t look very comfortable, but I suppose it wouldn’t be bad with a cushioning charm or two.”

He managed a half-smile. “Ron’s always gotten away with everything.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “He has. Not as much as me, of course.”

“Of course.” George agreed with a snort.

They lapsed into silence and Ginny fiddled with the bedspread.

“It’s August 11th,” Ginny said impulsively.

“Happy Birthday,” George said at once though his voice was rather toneless.

“Thanks,” Ginny croaked. He looked at her worriedly. “Everyone’s forgotten.”

“Sorry, Ginny.”

“I know it doesn’t matter,” she said, allowing the ache in her throat to control her voice. “It’s just a birthday but-“

“Hey,” George said, lifting himself up. “Could be worse, you could have to share every birthday with some-“

He realized what he was saying halfway through and looked distraught.

“Some t-t-tosser,” he croaked, collapsing back onto the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

George shook his head, his eyes tightly shut. The silence chocked her and to resist succumbing to tears she began to blabber.

“It’s just, I thought it would be special, have a cake, everyone tease me about growing up but I’ve already been doing magic for ages and it doesn’t seem to matter.”

“It does matter,” George insisted.

There was a shuffling and when she looked up he was sitting across from her.

“It doesn’t though,” Ginny said, “What does it matter that I’m of age? How can it when Fred’s not-?”

She broke off, openly sobbing now. The floor creaked and the bed beside her shifted as George offered his arms to her. Without thinking Ginny collapsed against him, ignoring that he smelled like he hadn’t showered in days and allowing the grief to wash from her, feeling selfish burdening her brother when he was hurting so badly.

“What do I do?” Ginny asked when she could speak again. “I don’t care about the cake or the presents but mum-“

“Don’t you worry. I’ve got this.” George assured her at once. She looked at him questioningly. “I’ll make an appearance at dinner.”

It was too much to ask from him. “You haven’t been down in days-“

“The party’s already ruined, might as well have all the attention on me anyway,” he joked weakly, giving a poor imitation of a smile.

“Wouldn’t be a party if you weren’t the center of attention,” Ginny tried teasing back, ignoring the voice in her head that critically analyzed everything she was saying.

“I think there’s still some fireworks stashed in one of these boxes,” George went on. “It’s not much, but I’m afraid we can’t offer you a better gift given the circumstances.”

“Your real present could be a shower,” she said, pulling away and wrinkling her nose.

“Oi,” he said, shaking his head at her. He rudely took a sniff of his armpit and made a disgusted face.“I’m the one rescuing you here, no need to be rude.”

Ginny smiled at him but could feel the tears in her eyes even before it occurred to her she was sad. 

“It’ll get better,” George said with surprising conviction. “Next year you’ll be all graduated and we’ll throw you a proper bash.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked genuinely. “Or are you just saying it?”

His smile wavered. “Have to, don’t I? Otherwise…”

It was Ginny’s turn to reach over and grasp his hand. He swallowed hard and gave her a little smile.

“Thanks, George.”

“Of course,” he answered, giving her a squeeze. “What are big brothers for?”


End file.
